The Dancer & The Spy
by Sgt22
Summary: Sequel to "All I Ask of You". It's 3 years later and we pick up where Raoul and Meg left off. Raoul has been in search of adventure, and as always, Meg is a girl with a plan. Join the perfectly mismatched, yet perfectly destined to be together couple as they stumble upon one another again and find mayhem, adventure, and love (although not necessarily in that order)
1. Chapter 1

_Our story begins where my previous fic "All I Ask of You" left off. If you haven't read it, you should go check it out!_

Calais, France

 _In a very sketchy part of town….._

Raoul kept a discreet eye on the short man at the bar. Clearly a ne'er do well. Raoul could tell by the man's crooked teeth. People who were up to no good always had bad teeth. Then again, this was France; almost everyone had unruly teeth that gave the appearance of being in the process of fleeing their owner's mouths. Like tiny little criminals escaping the Bastille. And everyone smelled bad. _Why can't anyone in this bloody town take a bath?_ Raoul sighed and took another sip of his wine and surreptitiously took another glance around the room, studying and discarding faces.

 _Where was that fool, Armand?_

Raoul had been waiting for an hour to meet with Armand LeBlanc, his sometime-informant here in Calais. Raoul knew from experience that it was unwise to trust more than half of what came out of LeBlanc's mouth, but he hoped that the gold with which he was planning on crossing LeBlanc's palm would entice him into some uncharacteristic veracity. Raoul badly needed some information on the whereabouts of Philip LaFayette, a scoundrel who, Raoul hoped, would lead him to a bigger fish, the Duke of Aubin. Aubin was engaged in some nefarious dealings with foreign governments, and it was Raoul's task to befriend him, and become involved in those nefarious dealings as well, and ultimately bring down the whole nest of vipers. But nothing was going to happen until he found LaFayette.

The door to the tavern burst open, and in staggered Armand, greeting his fellow wharf rats with raucous shouts of acknowledgement. As Armand good naturedly shoved his way up to the bar, the short man moved over to make room for him, but otherwise made no other indication that they were acquainted. Squeezed out of his place at the bar was a young man of about 20, slight of build, with a blue knit cap covering his blond hair.

"Pigs" he muttered, as he moved away and took a seat some distance away at a table.

The short man took a swig of his ale and softly said "He's over in the corner. Been waitin' a while."

Armand turned his back towards Raoul, and glancing at the short man, nodded once. Then turned back in Raoul's direction and began a slow amble over to his table, stopping to slap a few backs and pinch a few bottoms. He dropped into the vacant chair across from Raoul and smiled.

"Yer lordship. Yer lookin' hale and hearty this fine evening. What brings you to the fancy side of town?"

Raoul rolled his eyes. "The stench pervading this establishment is the only hale and hearty entity I can perceive. God Above, man, do none of you ever bathe?"

Armand shrugged. "Soap costs. And we're just gonna get dirty again tomorrow."

"Of course, how wasteful of me. You're a model of efficiency, LeBlanc" Raoul shook his head. Although Raoul wasn't overly fond of getting dirty, he wasn't nearly as fastidious as he came across. However, in his dealings with the less refined, he found it useful to appear as fussy and particular as possible. If he gave the impression of being a persnickety fribble, then he was much more likely to be underestimated, which frequently worked to his advantage.

Raoul glanced about the room, his gaze landing on no one in particular. "I need some information, if you please."

Armand licked his lips and leaned forward slightly. "My specialty, yer lordship."

"Indeed." Raoul regarded LeBlanc for a moment. Something was not quite right. LeBlanc was usually not so eager to do business. On at least one occasion in the past, Raoul had had to resort to more physical forms of persuasion to induce Armand to loosen his tongue. Raoul took a sip of his wine and glanced up as the tavern wench came to ask if they needed anything. As the buxom redhead and Armand engaged in a bit of flirtatious banter, Raoul's attention was caught by the boy in the blue knit cap, who was watching him. Raoul's brow furrowed as he returned the boy's gaze, but recognition was not forthcoming.

He returned his attention to Armand. "What do you know of Philip LaFayette?"

Armand scratched his chin and tried to give the appearance of being deep in recollection. "Depends. What do you need to know?"

"I need to know where to find him. Is he about?"

Armand shrugged noncommittally.

"Don't be tiresome, LeBlanc. Either you know where to find him, or you don't. If you don't have the information I seek, I'm sure there are plenty of others who do." He paused a beat, then added, "Like your short little rat-faced friend at the bar"

Armand sat back in his chair, eyebrows raised. He gave a smirk. "Noticed him, didja?"

This time it was Raoul's turn to shrug noncommittally and smile.

"We've always dealt well enough together LeBlanc. No need to invite extra guests to the party. Rather rude of you, actually. In fact, I think my feelings might be hurt." Raoul looked bored and stood up. "I think our dealings are concluded."

Armand quickly reached out and grabbed Raoul's arm. "Please sit yer lordship. No offense intended. Man in my line of work needs to have more than one set of eyes and ears."

Raoul tilted his head and studied Armand for a moment. At last he sat back down. Armand gave a sigh of relief. _No use killing the goose who lays the golden eggs – not yet anyway._

"Fair enough." Raoul slid a gold coin across the table and it disappeared up Armand's sleeve without a trace. "Tell me what you know."

"I saw LaFayette hanging about _The Thessalonica_ the day before she put out to sea. This would have been last week, Monday, or so. Haven't seen him around since."

"Do you think he was aboard her when she sailed?"

"Impossible to say. I could check around some of the places he's known to frequent, see if he's been seen since. But that's gonna cost you extra."

Raoul nodded. "See what you can discover. Meet me here again tomorrow night and report your findings."

LeBlanc stood and took a final swig of his ale. "Tomorrow then" and turned and left.

Raoul likewise finished his wine and flipped the serving girl a franc as she sashayed past. He felt as though there were eyes on him, but as he scanned the crowd, he could discern no one paying him any particular attention.

Raoul made his way to the bar to settle up with the tavern owner. As he waited to garner the man's attention, the short rat-faced man appeared at his elbow and purposely bumped into him, spilling his ale all over Raoul's waistcoat.

"Watch where yer goin', fancy pants!" he slurred.

"You malodorous snaggle-toothed vermin! You've ruined my waistcoat!" Raoul was busy calculating how many ruffians were likely about to jump him, while he was pretending to be affronted by the ruination of his garment.

"Your sodden finery will be the least ruined thing about you by the time that I get through with you!" replied rat-man, as he smashed his tankard of ale across Raoul's chin.

The tavern erupted in cheers from the men, and screams from the women, as the melee broke out. Half a dozen onlookers became direct participants, as no one likes to pass up the chance to take a swing at someone who has been annoying them. Raoul was holding his own against the short man, and his friend who had joined in, when a third, taller man with a scar on his cheek grabbed Raoul from behind, lifted him up, and heaved him through the front window of the tavern.

Raoul was sent flying through the window, glass shattering and wood exploding into the street. His three attackers jumped through the window after him and began raining blows onto his struggling form. He regained his feet, and dispatched the man with the scar by showing him the shortest route to a nearby brick wall, but there was little doubt he was going to be beaten to a bloody pulp by the other two in short order. The smaller of the two ruffians caught Raoul across the jaw, followed by a pummeling blow to the mid-section, and Raoul fell to his knees.

Unexpectedly, both of the men joined him, their eyes rolling back in their heads as they went all the way down to the ground, unconscious.

 _Wait. No. What? What just happened?_ Raoul blinked owlishly, trying to make sense of what was transpiring.

"I'd say you have the adventure part down, your Lordship. What you are lacking is a _plan_ " grinned Meg.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The boy in the blue knit cap reached down and grasped Raoul by the hand to help him up.

 _ **Meg**_ _? The_ _ **boy**_ _in the tavern who was staring at me was_ _ **Meg**_ _?_

"Up you go, Raoul. Let's get out of here before we attract the wrong kind of attention" she laughed.

Raoul winced as he stood and draped his arm across her shoulder. Meg was tall, for which he was grateful; anyone observing them would think he was being drunkenly escorted home. " _Wrong_ kind of attention? I was just delivered a beating from every lout in that establishment – how much worse can the attention _be_?"

Meg smiled, a very fetching dimple appearing on her left cheek, he noted. "The gendarmes don't usually show up unless they're called by those who have paid for their protection. We want to be gone before they arrive." Meg slid her hand under Raoul's coat across his back and gently rested it against his ribs, supporting him. Looking up and searching his face for further signs of injury, she added, "You can lean on me if you need to. Anything feel broken?"

Raoul smiled back down at her. "Just my sunny disposition and faith in my fellow man", and _click,_ just like that, he felt that same _frisson_ of anticipation between them that he had felt the last time he had seen her, when they had been standing on the street in front of the Opera Populaire, holding hands in the Paris sunrise. Just before she had smiled brightly, disengaged her hand from his, and disappeared from his life. It felt now as though adventure had just come roaring back into his presence, spurred into life by a ballerina named Meg.

They began to make their way down the street, putting as much distance between them and the pile of bodies they'd left behind them as they could. Meg knew they would have only a few minutes before the melee that was going on inside the tavern spilled out onto the sidewalk, and she wanted to be long gone before that happened. She glanced up at Raoul, getting her first good, up close look at him. He had grown a bit in the last few years, filled out. No longer the boy with whom she had spent the night, paddling around the underground waterways beneath the Opera Populaire all those years ago. In his place was a man. Still young, to be sure, but hardened now, tested and more assured. There was a _presence_ about him that had been lacking previously. Meg leaned into him and softly, but deeply inhaled. _Sure_ _ **smells**_ _better than the last time we were together_ , she playfully thought. Everyone else in this bloody town stank to high heavens. It was delightful to encounter someone who had more than an annual acquaintance with soap and water.

Raoul was still trying to wrap his mind around Meg being the boy in the blue cap. She had just saved his life ( _again_ ) by knocking out the two men who had been attacking him. What was she doing in that tavern? It was certainly no place for a lady. Further, why was she disguised as a boy? His mind flashed back the night they spent together in the bowels of the opera house. He mentally grimaced at the memory of the foolish lovesick lad he had been. He had much fonder recollections of Meg's behavior that evening than of his own. She had been kind and funny, and down-to-earth and straightforward as well. But mostly, she had spoken to him as though they were equals. The was no subservience in Meg's manner of address; in fact, at times she had even expressed an exasperation which bordered on disrespect, when he was being a little slow to reach the conclusions she was drawing for him. Raoul couldn't really fault her there; in retrospect, he _**was**_ being a little thick-headed. In the end however, she had allowed him to deduce for himself that Christine was in love with another man, and that he and Christine were destined to be on different paths. Meg had been a true friend to both of them that night, and he had never forgotten her.

Meg spied a hansom cab and nodded to Raoul to hail it. As they climbed in, Raoul gave the driver his address, in the more respectable area of town, Meg noted. The driver flicked the reins, and they got underway.

A million questions flew through Raoul's mind. He opened his mouth, but was silenced by the slight pressure of Meg gently squeezing his knee. He looked at her, eyebrows raised. She was sitting close enough that they were touching arm to arm, and she gave a slight shake of her head and looked up, above them to where the driver was perched, indicating that they should remain silent while in his presence.

Raoul grinned in the darkened cab. _Still my girl with a plan, I see_.

As they traveled on silently through the cobblestone streets, Meg took advantage of the cover of shadows to observe Raoul more closely. He was certainly more physically imposing than she remembered. His shoulders and chest were broader, hewn by actual physical labor, rather than at a boxing or fencing gymnasium, as was the fashion with young men of means. As the cab rounded a corner, she was pressed into his arm, which she was unsurprised to find large, and very firm. Her gaze continued its downward travels, stopping to note his still slim waist and hips. His legs were thicker, fuller and more muscular than she remembered too. Meg swallowed, and started to feel a little warm.

" _Are you quite through ogling me, Meg_?" Raoul amusedly whispered in her ear.

Meg gave a startled little jump, and sat back, blushing furiously. "You're much bigger than I remembered" she whispered back. _Dammit! That's not what I meant to say!_ She blushed even more. "That is, I mean, you're looking well-fed, er, _**healthy**_."

She could feel Raoul silently laughing next to her, and even though she was mortified to have been caught red-handed while so obviously gazing at his attributes, she was also good natured enough to see the humor in her being apprehended in the act. She relaxed, and began to quietly laugh as well.

" _Take care not to shake the cab too much. You'll have the driver wondering just what I'm doing to my….what are you, anyway? A cabin boy?_ " he whispered.

With difficulty she ignored his rather risqué comment. "I'm supposed to be invisible, unremarkable, unmemorable. Just someone who is in the background that you're not meant to notice" she whispered back. In her current get-up, she actually was rather unremarkable. Black scuffed-up, well-worn boots, buff colored breeches, and a too-large navy blue wool coat, which covered her to half-way down her thighs. And of course, the ever present blue knit cap.

Raoul leaned in next to her ear, lightly grazing it with his lips, and in a low voice said, "There's where you're wrong Meg. I have _**never**_ forgotten you."

Meg's pulse gave a small jump and she barely suppressed an involuntary shudder. The cab slowed to a stop as Meg raised her right eyebrow and regarded Raoul, puzzled and curious.

"Help me out, boy" Raoul loudly proclaimed, grinning, as he tossed the driver some coins and climbed down from cab. "And mind you don't bruise my ribs. I find a lot of ladies enjoy looking at a _healthy_ fellow – wouldn't want to spoil the _view_."

Meg narrowed her eyes at him, but assisted him up the steps to his rented townhouse. The butler opened the door, took one look at his master's decidedly disheveled appearance, and all but shoved Meg out of the way to take her place in assisting Raoul into the house. After he was settled into his chair in the library in front of the fire, the butler poured Raoul a snifter of brandy and left to see about heating water for a bath.

Meg had stayed out of the way during the bustle of getting Raoul settled, and was now edging her way to the door to make her escape when Raoul stopped her in her tracks.

"Now, before we are interrupted again, take off that ridiculous coat and hat, and let me see _**you**_ " he purred.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Meg halted, turned, and locked eyes with Raoul. Unhurriedly she strolled back to the fire where Raoul was seated and stopped in front of him. Slowly, deftly, she began to unbutton her coat, her eyes never leaving his, as she unfastened them, one agonizingly slow button at a time.

What started out as Raoul seeking a bit of good natured retribution for Meg's earlier ogling of his person, was rapidly being turned against him. He felt strangely transfixed as he watched the pale skin of her collarbone being exposed to him. As the last button popped, she rolled her shoulders and shrugged out of the coat, letting it fall to the floor behind her. Raoul swallowed and blinked. Truth be told, she was no more uncovered now than she was when she was wearing the coat. Under the coat she had on a long sleeved shirt and an elongated vest which concealed her down to the tops of her thighs. It was more the way she looked at him while she was disrobing; he had the distinct sensation that she was baring more than just her collarbone.

Still not breaking eye contact, Meg reached up and removed her blue knit cap. A cascade of long, blonde hair fell down from atop her head, and Meg deftly removed a few stray pins and shook it out, closing her eyes as she did so. When at last she opened them, Raoul sat, mesmerized by the sight of all her golden tresses, glinting in the firelight like spun gold.

Raoul inhaled sharply and felt his throat grow tight, as arousal took hold, coiled in his belly.

Meg turned around, and bent over to retrieve her discarded coat, presenting Raoul with a very appealing view of her bottom, enchantingly ensconced in those very snug breeches. She took an inordinately long amount of time to pick up the coat and smooth out the wrinkles, before at last standing back up and sauntering over to the other arm chair.

Raoul's eyes widened and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. _Good God!_

Meg tossed the coat in the chair opposite Raoul and sat down, crossing her very long legs, and began absentmindedly twirling a long strand of hair around her finger.

She smiled, "Your color is looking much better Raoul. Downright _**healthy**_."

Raoul cleared his throat and gave a small shake of his head. _Snap out of it, man!_

"What brings you to Calais, Raoul?"

"A bit of adventure" he replied, grinning. He sat forward. "I'm much more interested in why _you_ are giving a very convincing portrayal of a cabin boy in what was possibly the worst tavern I've ever been in."

"Just part of my plan" she answered, a mischievous glint in her big blue eyes.

"Ah yes. _**The plan**_. I remember your fondness for being prepared."

"Certainly came in handy when I was saving _**your**_ ass… _both times_ " she laughed.

Raoul laughed heartily. There was no use in being affronted by Meg's directness. It would deter her not at all. Secretly, he was glad to see that that aspect of her personality hadn't changed. Raoul was exhausted by the constant deceit to which he was subjected; noble and common, law-abiding or criminal, people lied to him all the time. They were either trying to hide something, or were seeking to further their own agenda, but whatever their motivation, the end result was the same. It was refreshing to hear someone tell you the truth, unfettered by devotion to their own selfish gain.

"I will admit to some surprise at seeing you in that tavern, and I wondered if you would recognize me when you caught me staring" she said. "I was going to follow LeBlanc when he left, but I didn't like the way that little rat-faced bastard had been eyeing you all evening. So I decided to stay and see you safely on your way…from a distance, of course. When he intentionally spilled his drink on you, I knew the game was afoot and that would call for a new plan."

Raoul's ears perked up at the mention of Armand. "You know LeBlanc?"

Meg gave a small shudder of disgust. "Yes, unfortunately. I don't trust him, and if you know him at all, then you know not to either."

Raoul nodded knowingly. "So you were there to find LeBlanc as well?"

"Not so much him, as someone he knows" she replied. She stood. "Mind if I have a drink? Constantly rescuing you makes me thirsty" she added saucily.

"My apologies, where are my manners? Shall I ring for tea?" Raoul actually **was** rather embarrassed for his lapse in etiquette; _This woman saved my life and I can't even remember to offer her something to drink? God Above, man, stop gawking at her backside and conduct yourself like a gentleman!_

Meg smiled and waved away his apology as she walked to the sidebar. She bent down to get a closer look at the selections and after a few moments selected the same decanter of brandy that she had seen the butler pour from earlier. Raoul hadn't blinked once since she bent over, his mental admonishments from a second ago completely forgotten. He was wholly immersed in watching her select a drink, and was immensely enjoying her taking her time in looking over his choices of alcohol. She had the longest legs he had ever seen, and they ended in the most perfectly heart shaped bottom God ever created. He rested his chin on his fist as he watched her in rapt attention, a small, delighted grin on his face. She poured some of the amber liquid into a snifter and returned to her seat, sipping as she walked.

"What's your business with LeBlanc, if you don't mind me asking. He doesn't strike me as someone I would find keeping company with a Vicomte."

Raoul was thinking about those impossibly long legs, and what they would feel like wrapped around his waist, what they would look like tangled in the sheets. _Wait. No. What?_ It took Raoul a moment to dredge up what they had been discussing before he had become so pleasantly distracted by the spectacle of Meg's delectable bottom in those snug breeches. "Trousers" he blurted out.

Meg raised an eyebrow. "Trousers?" she asked. "If you're in need of a new tailor I think we can do better than LeBlanc" she laughed.

 _Dammit! That's not what I meant to say!_ _Get a grip, man!_ He took a gulp of brandy, relishing the burn in his throat as it went down, snapping him out of his lustful musings. He decided to forge ahead and pretend he hadn't just almost admitted to leering at her in a most ungentlemanly-like manner.

"I need to find someone that LeBlanc is acquainted with. Another scoundrel by the name of Philip LaFayette. I need him to put me in contact with my real prey."

Meg sat forward, eyes narrowing. "How badly do you need LaFayette? Can you get to your real target without him?"

Raoul considered. "No. Or at least not without some difficulty, and time is of the essence."

Meg sat back and stared into the fire, deliberating for a long moment. At last she said, "Forget Armand. I can help you find LaFayette, but I will have to remain with you until he connects you with your target."

"Why?" asked Raoul.

"Because then I'm going to kill him."

 _ **Author's note: Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated!**_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Raoul sat in the tub, letting the hot water soak away the beating he had taken earlier in the evening. Turns out, the thrashing was the least interesting thing that had happened to him that night.

 _Who would have thought I would run into_ _ **Meg**_ _of all people? And dressed as a_ _ **boy**_ _, for Christ sakes._

His mind then returned to the excruciatingly fetching sight of her in those breeches. Raoul could feel the familiar pull of lust taking hold, so he quickly pushed those thoughts away. No use in torturing himself by imagining being entwined in those legs, or burying his face in that curtain of golden hair.

Okay, so a little torture wouldn't kill him.

When she had declared that she would be sending LaFayette to meet his Maker when Raoul was done with him, he had begun to choke on his brandy. Meg had jumped up and began to pound on his back ( _a bit harder than Raoul thought was strictly necessary_.)

When he had his breath back, he looked at her in wide-eyed shock. "Are you mad? Why would you kill him? What's he done to you?"

Meg shrugged. "That's between him and me. If you want my help then accept my terms. Either way, at the end of it, LaFayette will be dead. You might as well get what you need from him before that happens."

 _Hard to argue with that logic_.

So for now they would do things Meg's way. Raoul had no real intention of allowing Meg to murder LaFayette though. But he _was_ willing to allow the scene to play out up until that point and then step in. _She_ didn't need to know that though.

About that time Raoul's butler, Tobias had knocked and announced that his bath was ready. Raoul bid Meg to stay until he returned – he still had no idea what she had been doing in the years since he had last seen her, and he was anxious to know how she had been faring. Of course she declined ( _stubborn woman_ ) and had her hair tucked back up in her cap, and her coat back on before he could make further entreaties.

He told Tobias to order the carriage to return Meg to her lodgings, but again, she declined.

"I'm not comfortable with you walking the streets unaccompanied Meg. It's not safe for a woman alone."

"Says the man who was thrown through a window a few hours ago" she laughed.

"Exactly my point!" he exclaimed.

Meg rolled her eyes. "Hey, it wasn't _**me**_ getting thrown through the window! Everybody _loves_ me! I'm _**delightful!**_ " She giggled.

"Meg, please let me see to this" Raoul implored.

"Tell you what, your Lordship, you may take me to luncheon tomorrow. I'll be back around eleven, and you will see that I am perfectly capable of making my way around town, even after dark." She was smiling, but he could see the resolve in her eyes.

Raoul sighed. "Very well" _stubborn woman_ "If you insist"

He saw her to the door. He paused before opening it and releasing her into the night. He grasped her hand and smiled, looking into her eyes. "I have been remiss; I never properly thanked you for coming to my aid earlier this evening. _Thank you_." His gaze dropped to her lips and lingered there for a moment before returning to her eyes. He placed a kiss on her hand, still clasped in his. "I really am very happy to see you again, Meg."

Meg's pulse gave a jump, and a slight blush began to heat her cheeks. She smiled up at him in return and gave his hand a small squeeze. Quickly she gave him a small kiss at the corner of his mouth and whispered "Me too, your Lordship" and then she was out the door in a flash.

Raoul's mouth tingled where she had bussed him, and he smiled to himself. Again he felt that frisson of anticipation. _This is going to be entertaining_.

The bath water was getting cold, so Raoul removed himself from the tub and began to dry off in the frigid room. Nothing like a tub full of cold water to douse any lingering amorous inclinations – for which Raoul was actually grateful. He did not need the distraction of lusting after Meg like a green boy just out of the schoolroom when he had a job to do. _And she probably thinks you're a half-wit anyway_ , he mused.

He finished readying for bed, climbed under the covers and fell into a deep sleep.

And dreamt of big blue eyes that were filled with laughter, and long blond hair that tickled when it fell across his chest.

*.*.*.*.*.

Raoul was seated at his desk in the library, going over some recent dispatches from the home office when Tobias entered, a calling card on the silver salver. "A Madame Roberta Gerard, to see you sir."

Raoul raised his eyebrows as he took the card. _Who is she, and what does she want?_ He wasn't really interested in the answer to either question – he just wanted to get rid of her before Meg arrived.

"Show her in, Tobias."

Raoul stood up from behind his desk and was donning his coat when she walked in. Possibly the most arrestingly beautiful woman he had ever seen. Tall, with hair so black, in glinted blue in the sunlight, like a raven's feathers. She was wearing a blood red pelisse, trimmed with black fur, and a matching hat, with a long, curling black feather which nested on her mountain of cascading curls.

His eyes widened, for truly he had never seen such a strikingly attractive woman. With difficulty he looked away from her and towards his butler. "Thank you, that will be all, Tobias."

As Tobias closed the door, he returned his attention to Madame Gerard, and was taken aback by her clear, blue eyes. The same laughter filled blue eyes he had dreamt of last night.

" _ **Meg?**_ " he whispered.

She batted her eyes, and beamed, "Ready for luncheon, your Lordship?"

Raoul blinked several times. "What… why are you dressed like… _who are you_?"

Meg laughed, the sound which was rapidly becoming Raoul's favorite sound in the world. "That's different three questions there, your Lordship. Which would you like answered first?"

Raoul took a deep breath. _Lord, this woman is going to be the death of me!_ "Why are you dressed like that?"

Meg twirled so he could appreciate the full effect of her costume. "You like? I always wanted to have black hair. Makes me feel like such a _**bad girl!**_ " She laughed again and the sound went straight to Raoul's groin. "I thought it would be safer for us both if we aren't seen in each other's company."

Raoul swallowed. "Part of the **plan**."

"Exactly!" Meg exclaimed, her eyes dancing with delight. "Shall we go?"

Raoul had arranged for a picnic luncheon to be packed and waiting in his cabriolet. He wanted some time alone with Meg, and so had given his driver the afternoon off. Soon they were at the coast, on a bluff overlooking the sea. Raoul spread the blanket, and Meg set about unpacking the lunch and serving them.

Raoul watched her as she busied herself with setting out the meal. "So tell me, Meg, where have you been, what have you been doing these past three years?"

Meg hesitated for the briefest moment, before answering, not meeting his eyes. "Oh, nowhere in particular. Here and there, your Lordship. Nothing very interesting."

Raoul snorted. "I find that hard to believe." He took note of her habit of addressing him by his title whenever she was nervous. He didn't think she was even aware that she was doing it.

"What about you, Raoul? What have you been doing since Paris?"

Raoul regarded her for a moment, unsure of how much to tell her. "Well, for starters, I went back to the Opera Populaire about a week after our night together, to look for you, but you were gone."

She nodded, still not meeting his eyes. "You were looking for me?", a small, hopeful note in her voice.

He said nothing, willing her to look up, to meet his gaze.

At last, she raised her eyes to his. "Why?"

He smiled. "Because I was leaving on an adventure, and I needed the person who was in charge of making the _**plan**_."

 _Does that mean he wanted me to go_ _ **with**_ _him?_ A very pleasant, warm feeling bloomed in her chest.

She nodded, "Well, I am famous for my fabulously executed plans" she agreed playfully. Meg tilted her head and regarded him. "Have you ever heard from Christine?" She watched him intently, blue eyes studying him as she waited for his answer.

He watched her pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat. _Interesting_. He looked at her quizzically, "No, but then I never really expected to. She went on with her life, and I went on with mine. Truthfully, the prospect of hearing from her never even occurred to me."

He watched as she nodded, smiled, and released a deep breath. _Was that a spark of relief in her eyes?_ "So why did you leave Paris in such a hurry Meg?"

"I didn't. Or not at first, anyway. I just left the Opera house. My mother found employment at another theatre, and I stayed with her for a little while, but I grew rather restless and wanted to see the world, so I left. Took my show on the road, as it were." She smiled.

Raoul was astonished. "You left all by yourself? Weren't you afraid? The world's not a safe place for a beautiful young woman out on her own."

Meg blushed. "You think I'm beautiful?"

 _You didn't just let_ _ **that**_ _cat out of the bag, you_ _ **yanked**_ _it out!_ Raoul mentally grimaced. _Very smooth, old man._ Raoul blushed rather spectacularly, and hoped she wouldn't notice in the bright sunshine. He cleared his throat and smiled. "You, my dear, are not like anyone I have ever known in my life."

Meg looked down, blushing now herself, and gave a small smile.

"I usually masquerade as a boy. Being as tall as I am comes in handy. I just have to take care to keep my hair out of sight. Other than that, I've found that people usually see what they expect to see. If I'm dressed as a boy, they see a boy."

Raoul motioned towards her with his hand, indicating her costume and wig. "You are definitely _**not**_ a boy today!"

She laughed. "I'm glad you noticed! So after you came looking for me and suffered the crushing disappointment of not finding me, what did you do?"

He then told her the story of how he had helped out an old military colleague of his late father's with ferreting out a smuggling ring, and how that, in turn, had led to him becoming an agent for a governmental agency charged with defending the nation's interests, both foreign and domestic.

Meg's eyes widened. "So you're a _**spy**_?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement, wonder and awe clearly shining in her eyes.

Raoul's chest swelled a bit with the admiration. "Well, yes" he admitted. "And I happen to have an opening for an assistant…one who's good with making _plans_."

Meg sat forward on her knees, bringing her nose to nose with Raoul, close enough so that their breaths comingled, close enough to kiss. She stared at him with bright, animated eyes.

"Oh, _**yes**_ " she breathed.


End file.
